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A few weeks ago, I posted a video on Instagram of me fangirling over the newest One Direction music video, “Steal My Girl”. Within an hour there was a comment from someone whom I thought was my friend, saying that she thought me “getting emotional over a boy band is really pathetic.” The comment went on to say that they are just a bunch of people and they aren’t even good. Although I understand that they are humans like me and everyone else, maybe I have not made myself clear that I do not care for such hate.

Here’s a story: A few years back, my mother, older sister, and I moved to go live with my mom’s fiancé. We stayed there for a year before my mom found out that the man she had been dating for more than 7 years was cheating. For a good amount of time, at that.

The year we were there was quite eventful; My sister started behaving strangely (which revealed itself to be three different disorders causing the mayhem), I had lost touch with almost all my friends from back home, I made a new group of friends, I cut off around a foot of my hair, I was only able to see my dad every other weekend (which was okay to adapt to on its own), I began a long road of what I know now as depression, I made my first youtube videos, and a whole lot of crap from my parents’ divorce (which happened when I was three) and their long-gone marriage started resurfacing in my eyes.

What was I to do? I was pretty calm about it all. I let it all happen around me as the arguments and memories unveiled themselves to be so much worse than I thought.

Anyways, the amount of emotion felt in that year overwhelmed me. I can still remember vivid parts of it, from the second my sister and I found out we would be moving to the evening I found out we were moving back. Sometimes I still think my family and friends don’t realize how harsh I mean my tone to be when I express my view on the disaster. When we were back, I spent time with a few friends from elementary school (who are now probably the greatest friends I’ve ever had). The friends from the year away were mostly gone by then. I talked to them a lot. But the messages and calls decrescendo-ed, as relationships inevitably will.

Within the next two years I got intensely more depressed. I couldn’t shake the slideshows as they popped up. So. Many. Memories. Crying every day, writing about my misery on my first blog (this here website, actually), wishing there was a way to just let go of all that happened. My mind became my worst enemy. Trying to forgive my mother for dragging me hours away and back easily was the most important mission in my life, even if I didn’t want to admit it. My heart and mind couldn’t take much more, plus the weight of being a middle-schooler. And despite all this, I wanted to feel. I wanted to be in a place where I could feel ecstasy for people, for the world around me, for the dream of getting away and living alone in the midst of even more ecstasy.

And then I found One Direction.

I always made fun of them and their fans. Like I did to Justin Bieber and my sister, who is still a fan of his. My best friend Kiara told me about how awesome this English-and-Irish boy band is. I let her do her thing for awhile until I wanted to be part of it too. Soon I memorized who is who: Harry Styles is the curly-haired one; Niall Horan is the Irish, blonde (he’s actually a brunette), adorable, constantly-laughing one; Zayn Malik (pronounced “ma-lik” not “mah-leek”, as I had to get used to saying), is the olive-skin, Middle-Eastern, jock-ish one; Louis Tomlinson is the one who looks sort of like Harry but shorter and with straight hair and a lot of striped clothing; and finally Liam Payne is the one who at first had Louis’s hair, then an almost-buzz cut, and now resembles a model in every shape or form.

The band began to make a mark on me. They made me feel happy for them. I was ecstatic. Excited. Stunned. An insane fangirl. I never want to let go of the butterflies in my stomach and the smile on my face whenever I hear about them or talk about them.

From then until now, Kiara has turned me to a wonderful amount of fandoms and people to rave about every single day. 5 Seconds of Summer is also a huge one. Her searching abilities have made me more open to ideas and faster to catch up with celebrities I admire. She brought me from bands to now YouTubers! Online personalities who started out feeling the same way I do! Amazing people! Holy moly, all the different genres of living, breathing people to get invested into. So much love to be spread around.

I am still battling depression. But I have a feeling it would be much more horrible and overwhelming if it weren’t for One Direction. The now man-band (I guess that is what they’d be called now that they are all twenty-somethings) reminds me of my survival in a scarring time. Listening to their music, knowing that they exist, is what makes me happy. And not for one single even quarter of a second am I going to reconsider my love for them because you think they are bad, or that I am being pathetic.

What is the point of saying your rude opinion, without explanation, without reason, just simply because you think it deserved to be put out there? If I wasn’t me, I might take “you’re pathetic” to a whole new level. It might even haunt me as I fall asleep. When I thought you were my friend, you blurted out your words without tasting them first.

I do not condone this. I do not allow fan- or interest-shaming. And God knows I’ve witnessed a crap-load of it.

Please, next time you are about to be the most hurtful you could conjure up, imagine how you would defend yourself if the roles were switched. Thank you.

I wish I could directly tell you
You contain the only memory
I still regret

I regret being afraid to say yes
I regret letting someone else control my life
I regret being so naïve
I regret not saying goodbye

I feel fake
As if my public self is a persona
I’m not plastic
I’m still me
I’m still quirky
I’m still smart
I’m still trying my best

I hate how we just…
…Disconnected.

I want to show up at your doorstep
With my luggage
I want to explain myself
We could catch up
We could start all over

I never got closure with my past.
It never worked out for me.
They always tried to spare my tears
But sometimes
The tears just need to come out

I’ve grown
I’ve become this person who just
Waits around for the future to come
But it never happens how it should

I need to be there for you again
I need to be that annoyance
I need to be that alien
I need to be on the brink of discovery
I need to have that chance again

Maybe it happened for the reason
To screw me over
To make an insomniac out of me
To scare the living hell out of me

Unless you knew somehow,
I’ve been lost without the closure

I’ve had moments
Where I’ve been at my best
Smiling
Thinking “This is where I want to be”
I’ve had moments
Where I’ve felt my worst
Like my mind was ripped to shreds
My heart on reality TV
In a fetal position
In the corner
Crying “I’ve lost my mind”

I’ve been so good for so long
But they took over once again

I hate what I could’ve been
I despise her
She’s happy
She’s at parties
She has all the friends
She’s not afraid
She’s confident
While I sit here
Alone in my room
Wondering what might’ve happened

If you didn’t notice,
I lost you
And all my friends
I lost all the ones I previously had
Now I have two
Because even new ones have left me

“I can’t imagine you dealing
With that daily.
You may have felt insane
But your head cleared up, didn’t it?”

The answer is yes.
With every happening
I end up clearing something out
And adding something on.
But by no rate
Am I losing the person I need to be.

We are becoming strong people
We are finding our voices,
Living with less limitation,
Basically inhaling grief,
and exhaling the same chemical madness.

We are denying the crossroads
Regretting it
And not realizing
The impact was meant to happen.

Everything is meant to happen.
No matter negative or positive,
Every action has meaning.
We just may not know
What that meaning is.

I was at a Demi Lovato concert.
Midway, she gave a speech about
All the things she has learned
Because of downfall
And breakthrough.

Demi said,
excuse my language,
“My fans are strong-ass motherfuckers.”
I applauded
Like my life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
That was the truest statement
I had ever heard from a celebrity.

Not only are her fans strong,
They are all untouchable.
They have gone through life
With her
And without her.
They stand tall
At Life’s door,
Ring the doorbell
And run.
And when life opens the door
It sees a note that reads
“You can’t bring us down.
We will avoid your flaming red eyes
And breathe fresh air someday
Because we were able to trap you,
Serve you the medicine you gave us.”

The meaning of life,
As I see it,
Is to defy life.
We defy natural forces,
Feed upon the originality,
Entrepreneurial inventory,
Plummet our salary.
That’s how life is made,
In creations that adapt
And improve life.

Defy gravity with high jumps.
Defy bacteria with wipes, soap, and gel
Defy acne with face products
Defy wiring with wireless systems
Defy instinct with morals
Defy bullying with bravery
Defy bankruptcy with loans and business
Defy fat with good eating and fitness
Get the drift?

We evolve with everything we do
Cheer on the people
Who have defied nature
Find our happiness
By experiencing depression

It’s all logic
To invent new things and feelings
It makes us different every day
And creates new paths
That bring us to be amazing people

So yes,
With everything that I go through,
I defy life
While collecting more life to defy
But by no rate
Am I losing the person I need to be.

It seems impossible
The way you think
You have it under control
But alas,
You overcome the impossible
And smite me once again

I don’t have any sanity left
I’m just exposed, broken pieces now
No one tries to stitch the pieces
They tell me I can do that myself
God no, I can’t
I’m too weak

This is my white flag
Once again, I wave it
In the smoggy, heated air
Nothing has changed
I’ve just become tired
With that tattered flag held high
Using the only strength I have left
To get my point across

I’ve made certain breakthroughs and decisions lately that I would’ve never expected before. I’ve finally seen a therapist, told an old friend the truth, been straightforward about my emotions, and actually started caring for myself again. I’ve even stood up to people when necessary. I still have pretty major contemplations on whether I should regret certain actions or not, though. But it’s a work in progress.

Tonight I saw a post on tumblr of a shooting star gif. There were plenty of reblogs that commented what they wished and it coming true. Of course my skeptical side said, “Be logical. They are all just people promoting that first post for the reason of it getting popular and tricking people. You’ll get disappointed if you try.” But instead of listening I told it to shut up and defied it like the rebel I am (pfft). So I wished for something to happen that’ll start the future I’m waiting for and for me to be happy. Hopefully I’ll see results soon like the other commenters. Whether I get worse or better I’ll be excited to encounter anything close to results.

I’m getting to see my friends more and be a little more risky, which I have not regretted. I’ve also zoomed out and viewed the whole landscape. That led me to seeing how many friends I have, why I love them, why they (possibly) love me, and what I need to do to keep that free feeling strong.

I never would’ve expected myself to actually get better. I have always been convinced that my depression would always remain insane and uncured and things would never actually get better for me. I stayed strong and never got myself into unhealthy habits, which I am giving myself a high five for. Now I’m prepared if this is just a phase, but it hasn’t ended yet. Usually it would be over in a day. It has been a few days already.

When I said life was hard,
that wasn’t me challenging
if it could get worse.

Seriously.
I’m happy for two seconds.
Couldn’t you let me have this one?

No, of course not.
‘Cause I’m around my family.

Cheers to the people with supportive family.
Cheers to the married parents.
Cheers to the loving siblings.
Cheers to the sensitive jokes.
Cheers to the “good examples.”
Cheers to the stories at dinner time.
Cheers to all those cheery things.

Although, then there’s the dysfunctional families.
The ones who lost members to illness.
The ones who think they are ill.
The ones who know someone (or multiple people) who smoke.
The ones that are druggees.
The ones that are alcoholics.
The ones that lack love and compassion.

Loving is one thing,
tolerating is another.
Is it sad if a young girl knows how to open a wine bottle?
Or beer bottle?
Or has cleaned an ash tray?
Or been scared of family who you don’t know well?

Tell me:
What’s the point of keeping secrets from love ones?
It’ll get to them someday.
Information spreads like disease;
silently, discreetly, and to everyone it comes in contact with.

Don’t ask me questions.
I won’t want to answer.
I won’t want to know whatever you are guessing.
Because chances are? It’s not flattering.

Hell is on Earth.
I would be one to know.
My whole damn family would be people to know.

You know why I’m scared and know I may be done for soon?
Because it happened to all my gene-sharers, ya know.
I can see it happening
like it’s already in my grasp
but I’m too scared to give in.

I don’t self harm.
I don’t constantly swear.
I don’t have eating disorders.
Even though you may think it’s good I haven’t given in,
It’s worse than if I did.
Because if I haven’t done those things,
I’m still holding all the pain in.

It’s eating me alive
that is, if I’m not already dead.

By trying to help myself
I’ve only made myself broken.
And I don’t know if I should help that
because, as now discussed, that didn’t work.

I have very little strength left.

Please don’t push me.
I want to run run run
then sit down and stay put.
And if you knock me off balance,
might as well put me completely out of my misery.

I’m not being over dramatic.
I don’t think people realize how serious I am
when I say, “I’m dangerously broken.”

This is not a drill.
Unless you’re here to injure me,
do not abort mission.

Ha.
I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.
It’s all nonsense, you see.
It may actually make sense to you
but to me I can’t concentrate.